


i'm your moonlight, you're my star

by doingthemost, singsongsung



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas, Cunnilingus, F/F, First Kiss, Found Family, Hanukkah, Holidays, Long-Distance Relationship, New Year's Eve, Post-Canon, Real Family, Sex, Short-Lived Yearning, Snow, Vaginal Fingering, brief discussion of sex is at the end of chapter three, non-explicit sex is at the end of chapters four and chapter seven, the locket
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:47:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27804046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doingthemost/pseuds/doingthemost, https://archiveofourown.org/users/singsongsung/pseuds/singsongsung
Summary: "I love snow," Twyla says on a little sigh, tilting her head back to watch it come down.  Alexis leans against her, the two of them firmly pressed shoulder-to-shoulder and side-by-side, and Twyla can feel every point of connection between them despite their sweaters and coats.Twyla and Alexis spend the holidays together.
Relationships: Alexis Rose/Twyla Sands, Patrick Brewer/David Rose (mentioned)
Comments: 72
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically a Twylexis advent exercise - new chapters will be posted every 3 days, and will chronicle Twyla and Alexis' post-canon holiday adventures. 
> 
> All lyrics, unless otherwise specified, are from Ariana Grande's "True Love."
> 
> Your authors wish you the happiest of holiday seasons, regardless of what you do or do not celebrate!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New York: the weekend after American Thanksgiving.

_on that first day of Christmas  
_ _when you gave me all them kisses_  
_girl, you showed me things  
come hold me, please, and never let me go_

********

It's the exact kind of wintery, New York afternoon that Twyla has seen countless times in movies and has always dreamed of sharing with someone. Snow's falling lightly, dusting Alexis' hair and eyelashes, and Twyla clings to her coffee with both hands, chasing its warmth.

New York is truly a whirlwind, a far cry from the quiet of Schitt's Creek. But here on their park bench, surrounded by a snowy white sky and captivated by the colour in Alexis' eyes and smile, Twyla's certain she could call this place her own, too.

They've been outdoors all day, seeing the sights: the tree and ice skating rink at Rockefeller Center, a wistful walk through Central Park, and the setup for the Columbus Circle holiday market. Alexis even has dinner reservations somewhere with a view of Times Square for the evening.

Alexis' idea of a good time in New York doesn't typically involve throngs of tourists. And while they've spent time in Alexis' real haunts, the neighbourhood joints and her hole-in-the-wall discoveries, Twyla knows that Alexis has planned and executed their big day of Christmas cheer specifically for _her_.

"I love snow," she says on a little sigh, tilting her head back to watch it come down. Alexis leans against her, the two of them firmly pressed shoulder-to-shoulder and side-by-side, and Twyla can feel every point of connection between them despite their sweaters and coats.

Alexis holds out the bag of candied cashews between them, and Twyla takes a few. "It'll get yucky soon," she says, wrinkling her nose. "It's not like back –" She cuts herself off, her eyes darting up to Twyla's as her unspoken _home_ hangs in the air between them. "Back in Schitt's Creek."

"What do you mean?"

Alexis gives a little shiver, then loops her arm through Twyla's. Her hand rests on the inside of Twyla's wrist, fingertips on her bare skin, and without thinking, Twyla shifts so that Alexis' hand has no choice but to move down, bringing them palm-to-palm. "The snow gets dirtier here. It _starts_ out pretty, and then the city happens to it."

Twyla tilts her head, meeting Alexis' clear blue eyes. "I'm sure it's still beautiful."

Alexis gives a tiny flicker of a smile, difficult for Twyla to interpret. Alexis is quiet, though, letting the almost-peaceful hum of the city settle in between them, before she speaks again.

"Did you know that you're my best friend, Twy?"

"Yeah." Twyla searches Alexis' face, wanting more and afraid to ask, but she isn't used to reading Alexis when she's this solemn. "I know. You're my best friend, too."

Alexis draws in a breath, pulling her lips to one side, before she says, in a rush, "I think that I – I mean, just if you wanted to? But we could –" She cuts herself off then, warring with herself, before she gives Twyla a helpless look, all big eyes and barely-parted lips.

"Lex." Twyla's throat tightens as hope flutters in her chest; her mouth is suddenly dry. She hadn't come to New York simply because she wants more, but – "What are you trying to say?"

A snowflake lands on Alexis' nose, then another, distracting her. Twyla giggles as Alexis goes cross-eyed, trying to figure out why her nose is suddenly cold, and then Alexis looks back up at her, their eyes meeting, and Twyla doesn't know who kisses who first, but Alexis' mouth is suddenly on hers, warm and soft, and she isn't pulling away. Twyla gasps against Alexis' lips, cupping Alexis' face with one gloved hand, and Alexis somehow manages a laugh even as she coaxes Twyla's mouth open, deepening the kiss.

Some of Twyla's coffee spills as she twists, trying to get closer to Alexis, and it knocks her back to reality. Except her reality has shifted irrevocably in a way that has her catching her breath, awestruck as Alexis licks her lips and smiles.

"I've been wanting to do that for a while," Alexis admits. She's quiet, almost shy, and Twyla can't stop from grinning.

"Me, too." They meet in the middle again for another kiss, the drinks and snacks once again abandoned. Twyla intertwines their fingers together, and despite the chill in the air and the snow on her shoulders, she's certain she could melt.

tbc.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New York: early December.

_on that second day of Christmas_  
_said you felt like something's missing_  
_ so you promised me that promise ring to keep 'til we get old, girl _

********

On Alexis’ very first morning in New York, she woke up to a text from Twyla, which turned out to be a selfie. It was taken out in the Schitt’s Creek sunshine, which meant there was a slightly awkward glare, but Alexis could still easily make out Twyla’s outfit: a lilac dress that used to belong to her, with pretty scalloped detailing at the neck, cinched at the waist with a slim brown belt.

She texted, _you’re such a cute lil cupcake twy!!_ along with about twelve different enthusiastic emojis, and when she got dressed for the day in her boss-babe-takes-Manhattan outfit, she sent a selfie back. Twyla’s cheesy response made Alexis smile far wider than she’d ever admit to anyone: _you look like someone whose dreams are about to come true!_

They’ve been trading selfies ever since - not everyday, but regularly. Two months after her move, when she was in the midst of a self-care Sunday, she texted Twyla a reluctantly-taken picture, her hair in a truly messy bun, her face bare, basically engulfed in a sweater of David’s she’d stolen. Twyla’s reply - _I love this picture of you, Lex_ \- made Alexis’ heart do a dance in her chest, and she realized just how far gone she was.

So when Twyla’s back in Ontario after their Thanksgiving rendezvous, it’s totally par for the course for Alexis to send a selfie, wearing her favourite teal-coloured statement blazer and a new and significant jewellery addition.

Twyla responds with _your eyes are so blue!_ and four blue hearts along with a kissy-face emoji, which, while very sweet, totally misses the point. Alexis assumes a more coy pose, head tilted to the side, bottom lip pushed out slightly, her necklace grasped lightly between two fingers. She snaps a picture and sends it off along with, _you think so?_

 _I know so!!_ Twyla replies, and Alexis can’t help the burst of fondness she feels.

The next day, she puts the necklace on once again, atop a red dress, and takes another selfie. _feel like i really nailed my accessory game today_ , she texts.

Twyla replies with the emoji that has hearts for eyes. _You always do._

Alexis sighs, frowning faintly, but then Twyla sends a selfie of her own, a very cute picture in which she’s wearing a cotton camisole, not yet fully dressed for the day, and Alexis finds herself extremely distracted by the freckles on Twyla’s shoulders.

She decides to put together a photo in which her necklace cannot possibly be missed. She gathers her hair up into a high ponytail, so that it’s out of the way, and puts on a simple gray sports bra. The heart-shaped locket around her neck rests against the spandex, and Alexis nods approvingly at her reflection before taking a picture.

 _going for a run!_ she texts Twyla, and then waits.

By the time Twyla replies, Alexis has done all her pre-run stretches and listened to four songs on her pump-up playlist. She practically dives for her phone when it chimes.

 _I wish I could join you_ , Twyla’s written, the message accompanied by a single red heart. _Even though I’d probably just slow you down!_

Alexis collapses onto her sofa, her burst of energy waning, and looks at Twyla’s text, at all the things that heart says and doesn’t say, for a long moment. She settles on flirting back, writing: _you can slow me down any time twy._

After _that_ debacle, Alexis decides that the only remaining course of action is to throw subtlety out the window entirely. She takes a selfie with the locket resting directly against her bare skin, a inch or two below the dip in her collarbone. Her mouth, smiling and pink from a fresh coat of lipstick, is at the top of the shot. At the bottom of the frame, the curves of her breasts are visible. She sends it to Twyla along with an fairly innocent text: _nothing like taking your bra off at the end of the day._

She runs a bath while she waits for Twyla to reply. First, Twyla sends a blushing smiley face, then a fire emoji, then _I could help you with that._

Alexis turns off the water and perches on the edge of her bathtub, one hand toying restlessly with the lacy trim at the bottom of her silk robe, the other pressing her phone to her ear. When Twyla picks up, Alexis doesn’t even give her time to say hello, just blurts impatiently, “Tell me, Twy. Tell me how you’d help.”

Twyla’s breath catches, sharply. In the background, voices murmur, dishes clatter. Voice low, Twyla murmurs, “I’m at _work_ , Lex.” The hint of shyness in her hushed tone is enough that Alexis can basically _hear_ the blush on her cheeks, and she closes her eyes to conjure up Twyla’s face in her imagination.

“I’ll tell you when you get here,” Twyla says, in that same hushed, flustered voice. “I’ll _show_ you when you get here. One more week, Alexis.”

“Okay,” Alexis says, exhaling slowly. She misses Twyla more ferociously than she expected to, especially since they’ve been living in different places for months now, but she can harness her patience for seven more days. “Yeah. Okay.”

She dreams about Twyla that night, and is profoundly disappointed to wake up alone. She puts together her outfit - houndstooth skirt, cream blouse, skinny hoop earrings, locket - and takes her traditional selfie to send along.

This time, she’s forthright: _hey babe. do you like my necklace?_

 _It’s beautiful_ , Twyla replies almost instantly. Alexis stares at her phone, waiting, and is gratified when Twyla begins to type again.

The second text asks, _Is that the necklace you gave me?_

 _and then took back,_ Alexis confirms, along with an emoji with its little tongue stuck out to indicate that she knows how ridiculous she can be.

_I didn’t think you still had that._

Alexis stuffs her iPad and her notebook into her purse before plucking up her phone again and typing rapidly. _why wouldnt i?_

Twyla’s response is simple and honest: _Because Ted, I guess._

Alexis chews on her lip, taking a moment to think over her response. _it’s not like i’m trying to forget about ted? i care about him. and i care about you. a lot._

She takes off the locket, opens it, and takes a picture of the inside. One half is empty, but the other half contains a tiny photo of Twyla’s face.

When she receives the picture, Twyla texts, _It’s like I’m always with you, even when you’re there and I’m here._

 _exactly!!!!_ Alexis beams at her phone. She should have left for work five minutes ago, but she doesn’t care.

_Right by your heart._

Alexis nods at her phone, all by herself in her kitchen, locket warm against her palm. The heart in question is feeling very mushy.

_I love that, Lex._

_me too twy_ , she replies, and finally gets herself out the door.

She ends up being nearly an hour late for work. Walking from the subway to the building that houses Interflix’s offices, she spots a jewellery store, and she finds herself walking through the door before even realizing she’s decided to go in.

tbc. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schitt's Creek/New York: December 19.

_on that third day of Christmas_  
_we got all in our feelings_  
_said "I love you" and meant it, oh_

********

Dating Alexis isn't all that different from being best friends with Alexis; everything's just _better_.

Instead of questioning the intent behind Alexis' texts, Twyla now knows Alexis means every flirtatious word she sends. There are messages waiting for her when she wakes up, during her shift breaks, and after she comes home from work. Twyla learns how to surreptitiously respond behind the counter, and to turn the unflattering back room lighting to her advantage when Alexis demands a picture.

They don't stop at selfies and _thinking of you_ texts. Even if in their early days, Twyla had played the patient sounding board to Alexis' self-centered monologues, they've always been each other's closest confidants. Each day becomes a chance to find a new way to say _I miss you_ , to commiserate over frustrating work days, and, when it's late at night, to tell each other secrets they've never told anyone else before.

Twyla doesn't remember the last time she fell asleep with someone, even at a distance, but Alexis' voice rapidly becomes her favourite lullaby. And as Alexis' visit draws nearer and Twyla's anticipation builds to a fever pitch, they start video chatting more.

Alexis FaceTimes Twyla as soon as she gets home from work that night, and Twyla places her computer on her kitchen counter while she finishes dinner. Her eyes follow the expanse of Alexis' neck and the line of her jaw as, on-screen, Alexis tilts her head back to eat an enormous, folded slice of pizza. She's too distracted to tend to her chicken before it burns, but it's a small price to pay.

After dinner's done, Twyla cleans up while Alexis pours a glass of wine. She sips it slowly, and every time Twyla looks over, she finds Alexis watching her.

"Two more days, Twy." Alexis rests her chin on her hand. A small smile's playing on her lips. "And I can watch you do all your cute chores in person."

"Lex." Twyla tries to keep a straight face, but the ardent admiration on Alexis' face is doing her in. "I'm just doing the dishes."

"But you're so cute in that little apron."

Alexis' lips are already captivating enough, no matter the shade of lipstick she's chosen to wear on any given day, but tonight they're wine-red and all too distracting. And there are just two more days until Alexis is home, but the forty-eight hours feels insurmountable.

So can Twyla really be held accountable for saying something she typically wouldn't?

"I think you'd think I'm even cuter out of the apron."

Alexis' eyes widen, and several different emotions seem to cycle on that mouth of hers: shock, amusement, pride, and, finally, keen interest.

"Hunny p, babe." Alexis licks her lips, and Twyla has to grip the edge of the counter as she watches the path of Alexis' tongue. "I can't wait."

********

They don't have long-distance sex that night.

In fact, they've never had long-distance sex – phone, video, or text. They hadn't even had in-person sex when Twyla had been in New York, sleeping in Alexis' bed and discovering the secrets of her skin with her hands.

It had been some kind of wordless agreement between them to take things slow and let the heat between them taper off. And they've been able to focus on other things, and find out how they relate to each other in a relationship. But it does come with a side effect of palpable sexual tension.

They watch a few episodes of a TV show together, and Twyla catches Alexis watching her instead of the show. Later, upstairs, Twyla bangs her shin on the corner of her bed when she catches a glimpse of Alexis' bare back on the screen as she gets changed.

Once they're finally in bed together, in their own respective beds with their computers set up on nightstands and pillows, Alexis sighs, tucking her hand under her head, then shifts into a yawn.

"Everything okay, Lex?"

"Yeah. I just miss you. But, hey." Alexis yawns again, and her eyes close. "Now it's less than two days until I get to see you next."

"I know." Twyla can't wait to wake up to her again for real. "I can't wait."

"Me, too."

The light's dim in Alexis' bedroom, but Twyla can still see her open her eyes again, then close them. Alexis isn't typically the first to sleep, and a swell of fondness hits Twyla hard.

"Lex, why don't you go to sleep?"

Alexis murmurs into her pillow, saying something Twyla can't quite make out, but she's nodding. And then she says, her eyes still closed: "I love you. Night."

"I – Alexis?"

There's no answer, though; Alexis is already asleep.

It's not that they haven't said it to each other before. Alexis, before things between them had changed, used to end most of their conversations with it. Twyla's echoed it to her plenty of times before, too.

But – does Alexis mean it like _that_? Or was it reflexive, born out of her tiredness?

Twyla hangs up the video chat, then shuts her computer. Whatever Alexis meant by it, Twyla will find out in less than two days.

tbc.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schitt's Creek: December 21.

_on the fourth, we committed_  
_any time, she could get it_  
_she's the real one, I know it_

********

Alexis spends the bulk of her first evening in Schitt’s Creek trying and failing to see Twyla.

They saw each other briefly at the café, right after she arrived, and rushed at one another for a long, tight hug. But David and Patrick were also there, and David was whining about wanting coffee, and in one of the booths Bob and Gwen were having what sounded like a very dramatic conversation, and it was the lunch rush, all of which meant that Alexis had to let Twyla go and watch, morosely, while she bestowed the beams of her sunshine smile on basically everyone else.

Twyla texted when she was done with her workday, and Alexis was ready to sprint out of David and Patrick’s cute (and, admittedly, well-decorated) lil’ home like she was being chased by the Pruszków Mafia. Her plan was thwarted, however, by her failure to account for the fact that her family _cares_ so much now.

Alexis left every one of the Rose family Christmas Eve parties early from the time she was nine years old. Sometimes she told someone where she was going, and sometimes she didn’t, and choosing to make someone else aware of her whereabouts didn’t ever have much of an impact. But here, in Schitt’s Creek, in this little house, with only her parents and her brothers and Stevie, it’s _exceptionally_ difficult to get away.

She’s just tousled her hair and reapplied her lipstick in the downstairs powder room when her father catches her in the hallway with an effusive, “There you are, honey! It’s time to light the menorah.” When he wraps an arm around her shoulders, she can’t bring herself to refuse.

She intends to slip out afterward, and she’s nearly made it to the front door when David appears from the kitchen and grabs her arm, not even giving her a chance to react before he says, “Patrick wants you to chop the carrots because he - ” David throws in elaborate air-quotes with his free hand, “ - _doesn't trust me with the knife._ I don’t know why _anyone_ would trust _you_ with a knife after what happened in Laos, but - ”

With dinner prepared and eaten, the dishes done, and _Miracle on 34th Street_ playing quietly on the television, Alexis is convinced she can’t possibly be needed for anything else, but she’s wrong. She’s barely risen from her seat on the couch when Stevie grabs her wrist and yanks her back down. “You need to be on my team for charades,” she says firmly, and then hands Alexis her beer like it’s an apology. Alexis groans internally before she takes a sip, realizing that with all of them present, they’ve got David’s ideal number for game play.

The game of charades goes on far longer than it needs to, due to Moira’s overacting and Patrick’s impossible-to-decipher attempts to mime clues that add up to _Atonement_ (“ _That’s_ your Keira Knightley impression!?” David cries, sounding broken-hearted). Alexis fidgets in her seat, and is wracking her brain for an excuse to leave when she easily guesses that Moira is acting out ‘Norweigan Wood,’ and her mother says, “I knew you’d understand, my darling,” so proudly that Alexis has absolutely no choice but to stay.

Twyla stops replying to her texts just after ten o’clock, which Alexis fears mean that boss-babe Twyla, who gets up before the sun in the winter to be at the café by five-thirty, has fallen asleep next to her phone. At long last, nearly a whole hour later, Alexis _finally_ gets an opening to escape, when her parents have retired for the night, David and Patrick have closed their bedroom door, and Stevie’s left to sleep at Ronnie’s, whose home is only a block away.

Alexis pulls on her boots hurriedly, shrugs into her coat, and snatches up her ear muffs and her gloves on the way out the door. She makes it all the way down the neatly-shovelled walkway and to the sidewalk before she groans, tipping her head back in a gesture of exasperation. She has the kind of family now that might actually worry if they wake up to find her gone with no hint of an explanation.

She half-runs back to the cottage, tiptoeing along the walkway in an effort to avoid slippery spots, barges back in through the door as quietly as her haste will allow, and makes a beeline for the kitchen. She snatches a piece of paper off the notepad on the fridge, which has cute little veggies drawn along its borders, and scrawls down _At Twy’s_ before setting the paper down right next to the coffeemaker and whirling around to retrace her steps.

****

The porch light is on, but the windows of Twyla’s house are dark, which confirms Alexis’ suspicion that Twyla has fallen asleep. Alexis hesitates for a moment, stomping her feet against the sidewalk for warmth, as she wonders if she should let Twyla sleep. But she’s been waiting _all day_ and basically all night at this point to see her, and she just can’t wait anymore.

At the very least, she won’t knock on the door (decorated with the _sweetest_ sparkly silver wreath) and force Twyla to come all the way downstairs, wondering if there’s a murderer or a ghost or the ghost of a murderer on her doorstep. Alexis walks two houses down the block, and sure enough, the Bartletts still have a ladder leaning up against the side of their garage. It’s easy enough to dislodge it from the few centimetres of snow on the ground, and then Alexis carries it, moving a bit awkwardly under its weight, back to Twyla’s house, where she props it beneath Twyla’s window and begins to climb, pleased with herself for wearing flat-soled boots.

She raps her knuckles lightly against the windowpane, wanting to ease Twyla out of sleep, not startle her. She forces herself to count to twenty before she knocks again, and then a light goes on behind the curtains.

Alexis is practically buzzing with adrenaline and anticipation when Twyla’s sleepy face emerges between the parted curtains. She looks so cute - her sleep shirt is baggy and her PJ pants have Christmas cookies on them; the part in her hair is askew and her eyes are so big as she looks at Alexis on the other side of the window.

Alexis waves, and Twyla seems to snap into reality, blinking hard and hurriedly pushing her window up. “Alexis!” she cries as she fiddles with the screen, trying to pop it out. “What are you doing up here? Why didn’t you knock? On the _door_?”

“I didn’t want you to have to go all the way downstairs,” Alexis shrugs. Once Twyla has the screen out, she reaches forward, grabbing onto both of Alexis’ jacket sleeves like she needs to keep Alexis from falling.

“Downstairs isn’t far,” Twyla points out. Her hair is falling into her face, and Alexis would like to brush it away, but Twyla is clinging too firmly to her forearms.

Alexis shrugs again, and shimmies her shoulders, which makes the ladder shake slightly, which makes Twyla’s grasp on her tighten. “I’m trying to be, like, _romantic_ , Twy.”

“You’re trying to end up in the Elmdale ER, Romeo,” Twyla corrects, but she’s got that charmed look of affection on her face, the one Alexis would chase after for years.

Twyla hauls at Alexis’ arms and shoulders, helping her clamber through the window. It’s hardly a graceful affair, and Alexis huffs out a moderately exasperated breath when she has both feet on the floor. “I used to be _way_ better at that,” she murmurs, yanking off her gloves and earmuffs before pushing a hand through her hair.

Twyla closes the window, not bothering with reinstalling the screen. “Well, you’re thir - ” She stops, having turned around in time to see Alexis’ eyebrows fly up to meet her hairline. As Twyla laughs, she gives a small, involuntary shiver, and wraps her arms around herself.

Alexis’ eyes are drawn to Twyla’s waist, to the peaks of her nipples just barely visible through her t-shirt, to the faint flush along her collarbones. She tucks her hair behind her ear, feeling almost flustered, and then reaches out to do the same to Twyla, soft auburn strands skimming between her middle and index fingers.

“Hi,” she says. Her voice comes out low and quiet.

“Hi,” Twyla replies. She tilts her head oh-so-slightly, so that her cheek comes into contact with Alexis’ hand, and closes her eyes when she shivers again at the feeling of Alexis’ cold skin.

Alexis can’t help but put her palm against Twyla’s cheek and then bring her other hand up to Twyla’s face, too, the heels of her hands cradling Twyla’s jawbone. Twyla’s eyes flutter open and then fall shut again when Alexis dips her head down, leaning in.

At first, it’s just the softest brushing of their lips, mouths moving so slowly together. Alexis slides her tongue along Twyla’s bottom lip at a luxurious pace, teasing, tasting toothpaste and mint chapstick and the specific sweetness she’s only ever found in Twyla’s mouth, and then Twyla makes a needy sound in her throat, grabs onto the lapels of Alexis’ coat, and pushes up onto her toes as she kisses Alexis hard, her mouth hot and greedy in a way that makes the room feel like it’s spinning.

Alexis drops her hands from Twyla’s face to undo the buttons on her jacket, her fingers moving hastily and clumsily, and Twyla presses forward, hardly allowing for any space between their bodies. When she’s done with the buttons, Alexis brings her hands up to Twyla’s breasts, fingers kneading gently, and Twyla moans into her mouth, shoving Alexis’ coat off her shoulders. With a bit of shimmying on Alexis’ part, it falls to the floor.

Twyla’s hands find their way beneath Alexis’ shirt, and that simple, almost-innocent contact, just Twyla’s slim fingers bracketing her bare hips, is enough to make Alexis gasp, “Oh, _fuck_.”

Twyla gives her a crooked little smile that’s half sweet, half sultry, and enough to make Alexis feel like putty in her hands. “I’m _so_ glad you’re here, Lex,” she breathes.

“Me too, babe,” Alexis says. Reluctantly, she puts some space between their bodies so that she can wrestle her boots off. Twyla’s fingers run along the shell of her ear as she fights with a stubborn zipper, and when she’s done, Alexis straightens up and takes the hem of Twyla’s long, baggy t-shirt in her hands, tugging it upward the tiniest amount.

The rise and fall of Twyla’s chest is quick, her breathing shallow with anticipation. Alexis tucks her thumbs beneath the t-shirt and uses them to trace hearts on either side of Twyla’s bellybutton, watching with relish as a spark flashes in Twyla’s green eyes.

Hands finding Alexis’ hips and running downward slightly, tracing the curves of her thighs, Twyla murmurs, “I want…”

Alexis’ breath catches in her throat. She leans down and bites gently at the swell of one of Twyla’s breasts through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. “Yes, Twy?” She skims a thumb beneath the waistband of Twyla’s pyjama pants and sighs, “ _Yes._ What do you want?”

Twyla’s hand sinks into Alexis’ hair, and Alexis gives a nipple a soft tug with her teeth, pulling a whimper from Twyla’s throat.

“I - ”

Alexis lifts her head and gives Twyla an encouraging nod. Her thumb has found the lace of Twyla’s panties, but hasn’t dipped beneath.

Twyla leans up to kiss her. “Whatever you want,” she demures, her hands under Alexis’ shirt again.

“Mm.” Alexis peels her shirt off her head, and it’s stupid how tender it makes her feel, the way Twyla’s hands go to her breasts but her eyes stay on her face. “What I want,” she says, arching her back into Twyla’s touch, “is what you want.”

Twyla laughs softly, and Alexis kisses her sweet mouth. She backs Twyla up toward the bed, Twyla’s hands on her ass and her hips and her neck and her cheeks, Twyla’s mouth open against hers, Twyla’s skin warm and soft. Twyla sits at the edge of the mattress, looking up at Alexis with undisguised yearning in her eyes. Alexis strokes her cheek, and is looking for the words to ask if Twyla is sure about this, about where things are going and the pace at which they’re headed there, but Twyla’s already nodding at her, and scooting backward on the bed, reaching for Alexis’ hand to tug her along.

The bedsheets are soft flannel, and still warm in the place Twyla was sleeping. Twyla lies down on her back, and Alexis stretches out next to her, pushing Twyla’s t-shirt up under her arms and running her tongue along Twyla’s breast, circling her nipple, as she uses a hand to undo the drawstring on Twyla’s PJ bottoms. Twyla lifts her hips right away, and Alexis tugs her pants down far enough that Twyla’s able to kick them off.

“ _Alexis_ ,” Twyla sighs, back arched so that her chest is pressed up into the attention of Alexis’ tongue, hips rolling against nothing. Alexis catches sight of Twyla’s hand moving, coming to rest against her hip bone, like she’s thinking of touching herself.

“I love the way you say my name,” she murmurs against Twyla’s skin, tracing a path upward with her lips, from Twyla’s chest to her neck.

“Alexis,” Twyla murmurs again. Her fingers flex and curl into her a fist at her hip as Alexis sucks at her pulse point.

“Yes,” Alexis murmurs back. “Yes, baby. What do you want?”

Twyla’s eyes are dark and heavy-lidded. “Whatever you want,” she says again, softly. “I just want whatever you want, please.”

Alexis settles her hand against the valley of Twyla’s breasts and runs it downward until, finally, she presses her hand between Twyla’s thighs, over her damp underwear. Twyla’s hips grind down and her head tilts back into the pillow as she whimpers, “Lex…”

“I want so much,” Alexis whispers to her. It’s something that’s always been true about her, but she’s not sure she’s ever said it out loud to anyone before, or meant it as fiercely as she does here, in Twyla’s bed, watching Twyla’s teeth dig into her lower lip. She moves all four of her fingers in unhurried circles, giving Twyla some pressure, some friction to rub against. “I want… ”

“God, Alexis, please,” Twyla breathes, eyes shut, her hand grasping at the bedsheets.

“I want you to look at me,” Alexis says. She keeps the pace of her fingers steady, and nudges a kiss against the underside of Twyla’s jaw. When Twyla’s eyes meet hers, burning, she says, more softly, “I want you to be my girlfriend, Twy.”

Twyla smiles - not her usual big, beaming smile, but one that’s a little breathless, not quite fully-formed, as her hips keep rocking into Alexis’ touch, chasing her pleasure. Alexis wonders how many other people have seen this smile, private and distracted and joyful. She wants it to belong to her, and only her.

“Lex, yes,” Twyla says. “I want you to be my girlfriend, too.” She slips her hand into Alexis’ hair and uses gentle pressure to pull her into a kiss. Alexis smiles against her lips, tugs Twyla’s panties aside, and rubs Twyla’s clit with her thumb as she eases two fingers inside of her.

Twyla gasps, “Oh, Lex, _yes_ , yes, yes - ” and Alexis keeps her mouth close to Twyla’s as she fucks Twyla with her fingers, moving faster when Twyla’s moans reach a higher pitch, drinking in every single one of Twyla’s _yes_ es, every single time Twyla says her name.

As Twyla pants into the soft kisses Alexis gives her, hips rolling slowly through the last waves of her orgasm, Alexis murmurs, unable to keep from sounding the slightest bit smug, “What you wanted?”

After taking a few more seconds to catch her breath, Twyla shakes her head, her nose brushing Alexis’. “No,” she says, nipping at Alexis’ bottom lip. “I want more.”

And in a move so sudden and smooth it surprises Alexis, Twyla rolls them both over, so that Alexis is on her back on the bed, and Twyla is straddling her hips, stripping off her t-shirt so that she’s gloriously naked in front of Alexis’ startled eyes.

“I want,” Twyla says, “all of you.”

“I’m your girlfriend,” Alexis reminds her, arching her back helpfully so that Twyla can unclasp her bra. “I’m all yours.”

tbc. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schitt's Creek; December 22 & 23.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to schittposting for your Hanukkah suggestions and guidance, and – most importantly – alerting me to Buzzy Lee's "Give You Everything," the source of this chapter's second set of lyrics!

_on the fifth day of ~~Christmas~~ Hanukkah  
you asked me what's on my wishlist  
and I told you all I wanted was forever with my boo_

__

__

_I’m way too impatient  
I wish we had time  
I wanna give you gifts  
for more than eight nights_

********

There are six candles glowing in the windowsill when Alexis, Twyla, and David get out of David's car and approach the front door, and Twyla looks up just in time to see the Rose siblings exchange worried glances over her head.

"I knew we shouldn't have gone back to that last store, David –"

"I'm not going to apologize for doing something that brings me joy –"

"You already have _eleven_ black cashmere scarves that all look the _same_ , so –"

"Guys." Twyla aims a smile at both of them, then puts a placating hand on Alexis' arm. "What's the problem?" 

David glances over his shoulder, looking through the window. His keys are in his hand, but he isn't unlocking the door. "It's nothing. Dad's just, like, gotten really into the holidays." 

Twyla looks up at Alexis, trying to understand. "And that's a bad thing?"

Alexis pulls a face; right next to her, David's wearing a mirror image of her grimace. "I kind of _maybe_ promised I'd be home at sundown during Hanukkah?" 

The door opens then, revealing Patrick in a light blue and white, soft-looking sweater. "Hey! I thought I heard something outside. Everything okay?"

"Fine. Everything's fine." David stamps his feet, trying to get snow off of his boots, then kisses Patrick on the cheek as he steps inside and takes his boots off. "Just missed the candle-lighting, but I'm sure it wasn't a big deal. Right?" 

Alexis follows David inside, but Twyla hesitates before she crosses the threshold. She's never been particularly close to David or Patrick, and she's also never gone to a boyfriend or girlfriend's house around the holidays. Given that she and Alexis only just started officially seeing each other twenty-four hours ago, is this too soon? 

Twyla waits for Alexis to show her where to place her boots and hang up her coat and scarf, then moves down the hallway with the others. "He wasn't mad," Patrick's saying under his breath, leading them over to where the elder Roses must be, while Alexis and David communicate with raised eyebrows and pursed lips. "Just disappointed. But pretending not to be disappointed."

"Ooh, no." Alexis turns, reaching for Twyla's hand and pulling her closer. She flashes one brief, reassuring smile, then returns her attention back to the boys. "That's even worse."

"Should I go?" Twyla asks, quiet enough for only Alexis to hear. The two of them are hanging back in the hallway while Patrick and David go up ahead into the kitchen. "If your dad's bummed out, he probably wouldn't want me to see –"

Alexis reaches out, interrupting Twyla with a tap of her index finger on Twyla's nose and lips. "Babe. It's totally fine." She places her hands on Twyla's waist, kneading a little with her fingers, and Twyla moves closer to her with a sigh, her hands resting on Alexis' shoulders, despite the close proximity of the Roses in the room next door. "It's just, like, this tiny Hanukkah thing." 

Twyla tilts her head, raising her eyebrows curiously as she looks up at her girlfriend. She isn't at all familiar with Jewish holidays, and she feels a little like she's grasping at straws. "The candles?"

"Yeah. Honestly, I don't know how traditional our observance is?" Alexis runs her hand through Twyla's hair, brushing her fingertips against Twyla's ear, and for a moment Twyla forgets where they are. "We usually just, like, light the candles and do a lil' prayer, and that's it. Maybe that _is_ traditional. I don't have, like, a lot of comparison points." 

" _Alexis_ ," David shouts from the other room, and suddenly they're snapped out of their own little world. "If you and your _girlfriend_ are making out over there instead of getting in here and making Patrick's Nana's cookie recipe –"

An apologetic expression crosses Alexis' face before she twists, calling back over her shoulder: " _Ugh_ , David! Give us, like, _one minute_!"

"A _lex_ is," Moira yells, her voice entering the fray from wherever she is. "George Clooney's invited me to join his holiday livestream and I'm nowhere near camera-ready!" 

"I'll be _right there_! God, can everyone just _chill_?" 

Twyla isn't sure what's more prevalent on Alexis' face, annoyance or fondness, but she leans up to kiss off any remaining irritation anyway. "They love having you home," she tells Alexis with a smile, clasping her hands behind Alexis' neck. "David's been talking about it for weeks."

Alexis shimmies her shoulders underneath Twyla's arms, leaning down for another kiss, and Twyla giggles against her lips. "That's 'cause I'm, like, _super_ important."

"Very much so." Twyla doesn't believe in 'too little, too late,' and she knows full well that the Rose family wasn't always this close. But even if she doesn't feel like she's earned the right to consider herself part of it, she can't keep Alexis from her family any longer. "Come on. Let's go make some cookie dough."

"Mm, nom nom for us, babe."

********

In the end, Twyla's not sure why she was so worried about intruding. Johnny greets her with a big hug and a joke about whether he’s now eligible to get family discounts at the café – despite the fact that he never fully settled the bill the Roses racked up before most of them had moved away. 

Moira, for her part, chooses to sing her welcome through one of the Jazzagals' most favourite vocal warm-ups, then clasps Twyla firmly on the shoulders after Twyla matches her pitch-for-pitch. (" _Twy_ la," she intones, beaming down at her. "I am so pleased to hear that _you_ are the illustrious young lover keeping my daughter _warm at night_!")

Patrick throws an apron in Twyla's direction as she steps into the doorway of the kitchen, and she catches it easily with a swipe of her left hand. "Nice one," he says, then listens to her with rapt attention as she explains that she actually used to be pretty good at sports before her mom lost track and couldn't remember ever having enrolled her in extracurriculars. They keep their hands busy, grating cheese for mashed potatoes and monitoring the roast in the oven, and dinner's on the table before they know it.

Stevie arrives from Oakwood just in time to sit down with the rest of them. Johnny makes a toast, his wine held aloft as he looks proudly at each person around the table, they all go around clinking glasses together, and then they're digging in. 

"This is really great, Patrick," Twyla tells him, aiming a grateful smile his way and earning one in return – two people who happened to find their way to this family, the four official Roses and Stevie, their honorary Rose. 

"Mmhm." David's already getting seconds, somehow, and Alexis blows a raspberry at him as he snatches the mashed potato spoon right out of her grasp. 

Patrick startles then, looking over at Johnny. "I'm sorry, Mr. Rose, everyone. I just realized this meal isn't kosher."

"None of the meals from yesterday or today have been." David raises an eyebrow, looking archly over at his husband. "And neither are we. You saw me eat a BLT like, five hours ago."

Twyla's watching this like a ping-pong match, trying to keep up. "None of you are?" 

"Ew." Alexis wrinkles her nose. "No way."

"The birds haven't flown too far away from the nest," Moira says loftily, waving her wine glass in the air. "John hasn't kept kosher in _decades_."

"But that one time, years ago," Twyla interrupts, and Alexis gives her an apologetic little pout in return. "You said you were when you were at the café."

"She just didn't want to try the Friday special," David cuts in. 

"What would God say about how all of you are only kosher for selfish reasons?" Stevie asks through a smirk.

"He'd say that we were made in His image," David says primly, "so He must be very selfish." 

Johnny clears his throat, and they all jump. "Can we all just enjoy our dinner?"

"Yeah, can we enjoy dinner?" Stevie echoes. She exchanges a look with Johnny, the kind that says _there David goes again,_ then narrows her eyes playfully at her best friend, across the table. 

"I'm learning so much," Twyla says to herself, and Alexis places her hand on Twyla's thigh, squeezing reassuringly through her jeans as she leans in to kiss her on the cheek.

********

Twyla's halfway down the stairs, clad in pyjamas and her teeth freshly brushed, when she overhears Alexis and Johnny's voices in the living room. She pauses, awkwardly lingering a few steps away from the ground floor; she isn't intending to _eavesdrop_ , but despite the warmth of dinner and the movies David had made them all watch afterward, she still feels like she's on her best behaviour around the Roses and doesn't want to intrude. 

"I'm sorry, Dad," Alexis is saying. Her back's to Twyla, but there's visible contrition in the way she holds herself. "I know how important the holidays are to you, and we weren't back in time to do the Hanukkah stuff tonight."

She can see Johnny clasp Alexis on the shoulder. "Honey, that's okay. We still have three more nights."

"And I'll be here for them," Alexis promises, and Johnny's smile broadens. "I swear."

********

They're sleeping on David's pull-out sofa bed that evening. ("And if you two so much as _kiss_ on any of my furniture, I _will_ know.") Twyla fluffs her pillow, then slips under the blankets and duvet, getting her bearings in an unfamiliar room on an unfamiliar side.

"I thought you said you usually sleep on the right." Twyla rolls onto her side, facing Alexis. "So why are you over there?"

"Oh, it's no biggie." Alexis lifts an arm, gesturing over her shoulder. "It's just, like. This is the closest side to the front door?"

Twyla raises her eyebrows. "I don't think I follow."

Alexis moves her arm around Twyla's waist, shifting close enough so that it's second nature for Twyla to tuck her head into the crook of Alexis' neck. This is only the fifth time that they've slept together like this – not that Twyla's keeping count – but they fit together like they've been doing it for years.

"Don't worry about it. Seriously, it's totally fine." 

"If you say so." Twyla has bigger things on her mind, though, so she adds: "Is everything okay with your dad? I know you and David were kind of stressed out tonight when we got back."

Alexis breathes out a sigh, and Twyla rests her hand against Alexis' chest and collarbone. "He's okay, I think. But I just – we've never been, like, super big into the holidays before this, you know? Like, as a family? So it's kind of… I guess I'm still getting used to them _caring_ so much."

"I know." They'd talked about it before, the day after the surprise party they'd thrown for Johnny. Twyla's family hasn't had the best holiday track record either, although she isn't sure if she'd rather have the Sands family's disastrous get-togethers instead of the Roses' holiday iciness. "But things are better now, right? Now that they care?"

"Yeah. Like, totally better." There's quiet, interrupted only by the rise and fall of their breathing, before she speaks up again. "I just didn't really.... keep up with Hanukkah on my own, before I got here. And it's not even something I _ever_ really did? Like, I don't even have a menorah in New York. I didn't do anything for the New Year."

Twyla lifts her head, propping herself up on her elbow. She traces Alexis' cheekbone with the back of her hand, then trails her fingertips down her jawline. She isn't sure if she'll ever fully believe that she can do this, that Alexis is _hers_. "You can observe or not observe the holidays in whatever way you want." 

"I know." Alexis' gaze is serious, her face quieter than Twyla's ever seen it. She twines her hand into Twyla's hair, pulling her down for a kiss, before she says, "Well, maybe I want to start doing it. Like, in my own way." 

"Sure." Twyla smiles, brushing her thumb over Alexis' lips before she taps her nose with her finger. "You've always gone after what you wanted, Lex. This shouldn't be an exception."

Alexis catches Twyla's hand in her own, then presses a kiss to her palm. There's a sweetness in her eyes when she looks back up, something that Twyla hopes is just hers. "Thanks, Twy."

********

It turns out that both Twyla and Patrick are early risers. He gives her an apologetic shrug when the stairs creak under his footsteps, but she was already awake. She tries to rummage through her bag as quietly as she can, looking for the additional clothes she'd brought, and accepts coffee from him with a whispered _thank you_ once she's dressed and in the kitchen.

"I'll be right back," she tells him, grinning mischievously, and sets out for the café. She'd opted to treat herself with a few extra days off over the holidays, while Alexis was scheduled to be in town, but she has an important errand to run. 

It takes a little longer than she'd anticipated, though; Bob pulls her aside for a long chat, confused about why she wasn't behind the counter when he arrived for breakfast, but she sidesteps him just in time to catch Ivan's pastry drop-off. She leaves some money in the till, a makeup for the box she carries out the door, and by the time she's back at David and Patrick's, Stevie's over again and everyone else is awake.

"Good morning!" she says brightly. In a weird way, greeting them with the pastry box in her hands and the whole Rose family gathered around the table, various mugs and dishes scattered throughout their places, almost feels like she's at work despite her day off. But Alexis has saved Twyla a chair, so instead of retreating to the sidelines she takes a seat next to Alexis and sets the box on the table. "I thought I'd get us a little something."

"Mm, what is it?" David opens the box, and Stevie shoots up from her place in an attempt to get first dibs on the donuts. Moira is looking at Twyla in a way that can only be described as contemplative.

Twyla responds with a smile, big and broad; it's her _welcome in_ smile, the _grin and bear it_ expression she puts on until she can't remember her nerves or irritation or anxiety. "I stopped by the café! Ivan's been making jelly donuts lately. And since Mr. Rose was talking about something similar to these last night –"

"Sufganiyot," Johnny supplies, meeting her eyes kindly, and Twyla's smile relaxes just a little bit.

"Yes! And these aren't those, of course…" The box is already halfway empty. (Should she have gotten two dozen? Patrick had talked about cooking up a big brunch…) "But I thought that it could be, you know." Twyla's face is on fire. "Kind of the same thing, maybe?"

"My dear," Moira says, interrupting Twyla before she continues to ramble on. "That is _very_ kind of you. And I dare say our bébé Alexis has chosen _very_ well."

Alexis ducks her head, trying to hide a smile. "All she did was bring home donuts, Mom."

Moira tsks audibly, and she and Johnny seem to exchange a commiserative glance between them. "These sorts of things are never just about the donuts, Alexis. You shall learn in time."

"I'm glad you like them, Mrs. Rose." Twyla takes a donut for herself; her face is still hot, but now it's for a different reason altogether. "And thank you for having me be a part of this today."

********

When the sun sets that evening, they gather around the menorah. Moira and Johnny sing through it together first, with a startling lack of improvisation from Moira, before they divide. Moira trains the three newcomers on the melody while Johnny refreshes his kids on the words, and then they trade places. The Hebrew feels clumsy in Twyla's mouth, but Johnny allows them all a certain kind of grace. "We'll get it down tomorrow," he says, lighting the shamash in the middle.

Their voices come together in a quiet little choir as Johnny lights the other candles with the shamash. Twyla, Patrick, and Stevie switch to humming as Alexis and David begin to mumble, but she still thinks she sees Johnny wiping at his eyes as he fishes a dreidel out of his pocket. "Anyone for a game?" he asks, and Alexis and David exchange looks before they both reach for it. 

"You know," Alexis says once they're seated back at the table. "I once bargained my way out of indentured servitude with only a dreidel and a bobby pin."

Johnny's substantial eyebrows raise, and Twyla reaches for Alexis' hand under the table. "Wow, honey, that's…. great." 

"Thanks, Dad," Alexis says, clasping her other hand to her heart before she leans in and spins the dreidel with a smile.

tbc.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Schitt's Creek: December 24.

_after six days in your arms_  
_I got that tattoo on my heart_  
_’cause I’m your moonlight, you’re my star_  
_ain’t nothin’ shining more than you, girl_

********

Alexis breathes out a long, contented sigh, and nuzzles her cheek against the top of Twyla’s head. The only light in the room is coming from the colourful lights on Twyla’s small Christmas tree and the flame from a beeswax candle on the coffee table, and it feels, in the very best way, like this room and the two of them are all that’s left of the world. Spending the day with her family was actually pretty wonderful, but Alexis is glad they left to spend the night at Twyla’s, glad to have Twyla all to herself with no distractions.

One of her thumbs traces idle patterns in the condensation on the glass of water she’s holding, and the other runs along the inside of Twyla’s thigh, bare beneath the tartan throw blanket she’s wrapped herself in. Alexis turns her head to press a kiss into Twyla’s dishevelled hair.

“I wanna give you your present,” she says.

Twyla tips her head back to look into Alexis’ face, a delicious little smirk on her lips. Alexis wants to kiss her every second of every day. “You just gave me four presents,” she teases, her voice a lazy drawl.

Alexis does kiss her, then, unable to resist. “I can give you another, babe,” she murmurs. “But I also have, like, a literal present.”

Twyla’s arm wraps around Alexis’ waist, on top of the blanket she’s thrown over her own body, which is patterned with little cartoon hedgehogs wearing Santa hats. “You don’t want to wait until tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s going to be so busy,” Alexis says. “And I hate waiting.”

Twyla laughs softly, warmly, a sound of agreement. “I haven’t noticed.”

Alexis wrinkles her nose, feigning annoyance. “You better be nice to me, or I’ll put you on the naughty list.” She gives Twyla another kiss, swallowing laughter, and digs her teeth into Twyla’s bottom lip hard enough that Twyla’s body presses into hers, a sound that’s half-gasp and half-moan drawn from her throat. Twyla’s hand glides up over Alexis’ shoulder and neck and then sinks into her hair, tugging.

Alexis purrs her approval, but she forces herself to stay on task rather than giving into distraction. “I want to give you your gift when it’s just us, Twy. Please?”

“Yes,” Twyla says, right away, like all she wants is to give Alexis what she wants. Alexis kisses her again for that, more softly, and then gently removes Twyla’s legs from her lap so that she can stand up. She pulls her underwear and her dress back on, not bothering with her bra or tights, and kneels by the tree to grab the gift she nestled deep beneath the branches.

Twyla’s repositioned herself on one side of the couch, hands resting in her lap and legs folded beneath the blanket, facing the other cushion. Alexis mirrors her position as she sits, and she holds the box in her hands out to Twyla. The corners of the professional wrapping job neat and crisp, the paper golden and shimmering, the bow atop it waiting to be loosened.

“Lex,” Twyla says as she takes the gift, her voice hushed. She holds the box with the same reverence Alexis was taught to show her mother’s wigs. “This looks… fancy.”

Alexis shakes her head while simultaneously shimmying her shoulders. “Open it, Twy.”

Twyla glances up through her lashes, looking hesitant, but she carefully tugs at one of the ends of the bow. The ribbon unravels, sliding off the box, and Twyla tucks her fingertips beneath the wrapping paper on one side, dislodging it delicately. Alexis is practically vibrating with impatience, her fingers knotted together, but she forces herself to sit still as Twyla unwraps the gift without ripping the paper.

“Alexis, _what_ did you do?” Twyla asks as she runs her fingers along the edges of the velvet box.

She drums her fingertips against one of Twyla’s kneecaps, leaning forward eagerly. “ _Open_ it.”

Twyla cracks the box open very slowly, like she’s worried something will jump out at her, and then sucks in a breath as if something has. “Lex,” she says. “Alexis. This is - ”

Alexis can feel her eyebrows drawing together tightly. “I thought it - do you hate it? I can return it, I just thought - I thought you’d like something dainty? But it’s still big enough to open, look - ” She leans forward further, reaching into the box to open the locket inside, white gold with tiny diamonds embedded in a quasi-floral design on its front. “It still fits pictures.”

Leaning forward, too, close enough now that strands of her hair brush against Alexis’ cheeks, Twyla peers at the tiny photographs inside the locket. One is a picture of them both, taken at David and Patrick’s wedding; the other is just of Alexis, looking flirtatiously at the camera, taken specifically for the tiny frame in which it now rests.

Twyla lifts her head to look at Alexis, their noses barely an inch apart. Alexis meets her gaze, and tries to figure out exactly what’s swirling in Twyla’s wide, green eyes.

“Twy?” she finally asks, her voice coming out low and small. “Say something?”

“I - ” Twyla’s tongue darts out to wet her lips. “I love - ” She surges forward and kisses Alexis, one hand lifting to cup the back of Alexis’ neck, the pressure of her mouth fierce and full of so many meanings that Alexis doesn’t have time to parse them all before Twyla is pulling back. “I love it. But I - ”

Alexis’ heart sinks at the word _but_ , and it must show on her face, because Twyla grabs her hand and squeezes it.

“This looks… really expensive, Lex. It’s _beautiful_ , I just - are these real diamonds?”

“It’s not about that,” Alexis says. “And Interflix gave me an end-of-year bonus, so don’t - it’s really not about that. I wanted you to have this.” With her free hand, she touches the locket, gently closing it again. “What you said about how I have you right next to my heart, when I wear my locket? I want you to have that, too. Me right next to your heart. Even when I’m in New York and you’re here. Because I…” She trails off, shrugging and studying the necklace as she searches for the right words, words that won’t overwhelm Twyla any further. “Because I want that. To be with you, always. Like, all the time.”

“Alexis,” Twyla murmurs. She touches Alexis’ cheek, her thumb sliding slowly, affectionately, along Alexis’ nervously-clenched jaw, prompting her to relax it. “I want that, too.”

Alexis beams at her, sunken heart having risen back into her chest, where it’s fluttering wildly. “Let me put it on for you?”

With a small nod, Twyla says, “Okay.”

Alexis removes the locket from its box, sweeps Twyla’s hair tenderly in front of one of her shoulders, and reaches around to the back of Twyla’s neck to do up the necklace’s clasp. She settles the chain against Twyla’s skin, making sure it’s not twisted anywhere, and sits back to appreciate the sight of the locket pendant against Twyla’s sternum. “You’re gorgeous,” she says quietly, “so gorgeous.” She leans in again, peppering kisses against Twyla’s cheek, up toward her eyebrow, down toward the corner of her mouth, out toward her ear, and her mouth’s just landed on the side of Twyla’s nose when she tastes salt.

“Twy,” she says, startled, leaning back enough to see Twyla’s face, to cup it between his palms. “Ohmygod, Twy, don’t cry.”

“I’m not,” Twyla protests, an outright lie contradicted by her wet eyes.

“Shh,” Alexis says, kissing the tip of Twyla’s nose and then her lips. “If you cry, I’ll cry.” She shakes her head, pressing one of her fingertips against a tear that’s sneaking down Twyla’s cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. It’s… right.” Twyla touches the locket, looking down at it. “Nobody’s ever given me anything like this.”

Alexis looks at her helplessly for a beat, desperate to find a way to comfort her. All she can come up with to say, in the end, is, “I’d give you anything, Twy.”

Twyla reaches out for a hug, which Alexis gives to her immediately and easily, the metal of the locket cool between their chests even through the glittery material of her dress, Twyla’s damp face tucked into her neck. Alexis runs her hand along Twyla’s upper back, bare skin warm against her palm, and feels Twyla’s lips land in a kiss against her collarbone.

When Twyla pulls away, she lets her hand drift along Alexis’ arm, from shoulder to wrist, and then uses it to wipe at her cheeks. She pushes her hair out of her face and adjusts the blanket around her body, which she has tucked into itself just below her arms, like a bath towel. Her damp eyelashes are particularly dark, framing her eyes so prettily that Alexis finds herself releasing a small, blissed-out sigh at the feeling of having those eyes trained on her own.

“I got you something, too, but it’s not… like this.”

“Well, good, because I already have a locket,” Alexis points out, teasing. She shuffles closer on the couch, so her knees are pressed to Twyla’s. “What is it?”

Twyla points to a box under the tree, bigger than the one Alexis gave her, and Alexis hops up to retrieve it before sitting down in the exact same position, as close to Twyla as their two sets of crossed legs will allow.

Her gift is wrapped in a rough brown paper that she assumes is recyclable, and tied with silver ribbon. There’s a sticker on the front, of a snowperson wearing a tiara and a pearl necklace. On the snowperson’s belly, Twyla’s written, _To Alexis. xxxx Twyla._ Alexis holds it up to give it an experimental shake, and Twyla reaches out quickly to still her hands.

“It’s fragile,” she explains.

“Ooh,” Alexis says, waggling her eyebrows. She sets the box in her lap, tugs off the ribbon, and sets to work unwrapping it as carefully as Twyla removed the paper from her gift. When she rips an edge, she scowls, and she looks up to find Twyla looking at her with such stripped-bare fondness that she forgets about the gift altogether for a second, and it takes an encouraging nudge from Twyla to remind her to finish unwrapping it.

There’s a box beneath the paper. Alexis lifts its lid and breathes, “Oh!” as she reaches into it, carefully removing the object inside. It’s shaped like a hexagon or octagon or some other kind of many-sided- _gon_. The edges of its sides are rose gold, and one side of it is open, baring three tiny, adorable plants and five small crystals.

“Twy!” she cries. “You got me a little garden!”

“They’re succulents,” Twyla says, and adds, at Alexis’ nervous grimace, “I know you had an, um, bad experience with a succulent once, but I promise they’re easy to take care of, and if you run into any hiccups, I’ll help.”

Alexis smiles, knowing it’s true. “And what about these cute lil’ friends?” she asks, tapping one of the crystals before turning the terrarium in her hands to look at it from more angles.

“Crystals,” Twlya says. “I chose them for - for good energy for your home in New York. Good energy for you.”

“ _Babe_ ,” Alexis says, touched. “That’s so sweet of you!”

Twyla smiles. She rests one hand against Alexis’ on the terrarium, and uses the other to point to each crystal in turn: purple, blue, yellow-ivory, a grayish one with black lines, and light pink. “This is amethyst; it’s calming. And helps with intuition. And then this is blue lace agate; it purifies and helps with communication. Those will be good for you at work.”

“ _Totally._ ” Alexis nods eagerly. She loves when Twyla teaches her things, Twyla’s expression serious and focused, a teensy wrinkle between her brows, face lit up with knowledge.

“Then moonstone - for new beginnings.” Twyla throws her a smile. “Tourmaline for power and protection.”

“Aw, Twy.” Alexis preens. “You’re trying to keep me safe?”

“Of course,” Twyla says simply, as though it’s unthinkable that she’d ever do anything else. She rubs her thumb over Alexis’ knuckles, and Alexis feels so stupidly, sappily fond of her. She’s always been resistant to protection, even from her own brother, fierce in her independence and her own abilities, but she feels grateful for the gray-and-black crystal Twyla’s given her. She feels grateful for _Twyla_ , period.

“And this one?” she asks, pointing to the pink crystal that Twyla has yet to name.

“Rose quartz,” Twyla says. “Peace.” Her shoulders lift and then fall. “And love.”

Alexis manages, somehow, to feel even more adoration for the woman sitting across from her. “I _love_ it, Twyla,” she says sincerely. “So much. I’m gonna have…” She swallows hard, then forces the corners of her mouth upward. “So much of you, with me. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You can take them out and hold them, meditating on their properties. That might help you concentrate on their protections. And under a full moon, they - ” Twyla stops, then after a very short silence, adds, “Lex? Honey, are you - ”

“ _No_ ,” Alexis cuts in firmly, lifting her eyes toward the ceiling and fanning a hand in front of them aggressively. “I am not crying, because I told you not to cry, so that would be very… hypocritical, of me. To do.”

“Baby,” Twyla says warmly, which serves to undo Alexis, twin tears dripping out of each of her eyes in spite of her best efforts.

“ _Ugh_ ,” Alexis says, as Twyla eases the terrarium out of her hands and basically crawls into her lap, her arms looping around Alexis’ shoulders. “I’m just going to miss you so fucking much? Even though you’re coming to New York for New Year’s - ”

“Oh, Lex.” Twyla presses a kiss against her temple. “I’ve been thinking about how much I’ll miss you all day.”

Alexis sniffles, ducking her head down against Twyla’s shoulder. “You have?”

“I have,” Twyla confirms. “I miss you so much when you’re not here. It - it sucks. But I’m also so proud of you.”

“I’m so proud of you, too, Twy,” Alexis mumbles into her shoulder.

“And we’re making it work, right?” Twyla says, stroking Alexis’ hair. “FaceTime helps so much. And now we’re always right by each other’s hearts.”

Alexis watches, in her peripheral vision, as Twyla touches her new locket. She manages a half-smile as she lifts her head. “And you want me to have calmness and power and safety and peace.” She bites the inner part of her bottom lip. “And love.”

“I do want that,” Twyla agrees, fingers still smoothing through Alexis’ hair, eyes so soft on Alexis’ face. “Very much.”

tbc.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New York; December 31 & January 1.

_you completed the vision_  
_now I feel like I'm living_  
_you're so one-in-a-million, oh_

  


********

  


"So this is what real champagne tastes like." 

Twyla takes another sip, then giggles as Alexis leans up and they meet in the middle, arching over the table for a kiss. The restaurant's crowded, the ambiance dim and romantic, and Twyla rests her head on her hand as she takes in the sight of her girlfriend, lit by candlelight. 

"I figured if anyone deserved a splurge, it's you." Alexis tilts her head back, swallowing the rest of what's in her glass, then pours herself a little more. Earlier, when they'd gotten seated at their table, she'd talked Twyla into spending some of her lottery millions on a bottle of Dom Perignon. ("When's the next time we're ever going to celebrate our first New Year's as a couple?" Alexis had pointed out, and Twyla had to admit she had a point.) 

"It's us," Twyla corrects. She's smiling so hard her face almost hurts, but she can't quite believe their luck. "We're here, together, in the city where your dreams are going to come true." 

"Mm, I like the sound of that."

Unspoken between them is the fact that the city of Alexis' dreams isn't the city they both live in. After they'd let the distance tinge their Christmas Eve celebrations, though, they've both quietly agreed to not bring that up until it really matters – like the night before one of them's leaving the other, or they're making plans for their next visit.

So they toast each other again over caesar salad and potato gratin, refill each other's glasses as the pasta makes way for their main courses, and trade work stories and gossip all the while. Alexis' imitation of Bob causes Twyla to nearly spit out her bread, and Twyla promises to join the next Rose family Zoom call. For now, the sight of Alexis' locket, gleaming around her neck and resting next to her heart, is enough for her to forget that in five days, she'll be flying back to Canada.

  


********

  


They order an assortment of cheesecakes, their spoons clinking against each other on the plate as they take turns. It's rich and decadent, way above and beyond anything Twyla's ever tasted. 

"I'm pretty sure this is the best thing I've ever put in my mouth," Twyla declares.

"Oh, babe." A slow smirk is spreading over Alexis' face, and Twyla knows she walked right into this one. "That's not what you were saying this morning. Or last night. Or yesterday after –"

"Lex," Twyla says pointedly, ducking her head, but she laughs when Alexis does, too. "You know what I mean."

"I do." Alexis takes another bite of dessert, then grins at Twyla across the table. "I don't know if I ever told you? There was this one time that Ted and I drove to Elmdale 'cause I was having the most annoying lil' cheesecake craving. Ted made the _funniest_ joke." 

There's more to the story, but Twyla can't focus on Alexis' words. She loves Ted – really, she does – and she loves that Ted and Alexis are still friends. Things have changed and lives have been rearranged, and Alexis has chosen _her_ , but that doesn't do anything to ease the anxious, Ted-named thoughts that she's been pushing aside ever since they got together.

She manages to laugh at all the right places and say enough of the right things to help Alexis finish the rest of the story. There's a half hour left until midnight by the time they leave the restaurant, plenty of time for them to make it to the party in Soho, but Alexis takes both of Twyla's hands in her own on the sidewalk, her eyes searching Twyla's face.

"Twy," she says softly. Despite the noise and the revelry coming from all around them, Alexis' voice is still so easy to focus on. "Is everything okay?"

Twyla swallows, then puts on a smile that's tighter than she'd like. "Yeah." Technically, it's true. "I just –" 

Her gaze drops to the sidewalk, and Alexis bends her knees a little, lowering herself so she can still try to catch Twyla's eye. "Babe," Alexis says, and Twyla can't help but melt at the worry she sees in her blue eyes. "Talk to me?"

Twyla moves closer, letting go of Alexis' hands and wrapping her arms around Alexis' waist. December's cold is doing its best to cut to the bone, but Alexis is the best kind of warm and comforting. She imagines that she can still hear Alexis' heart even through her layers. 

"I want you for all my New Years," she murmurs, lifting her head up from Alexis' chest. "I want you for forever." 

"Me, too, Twy." Alexis places her hand on Twyla's cheek, and she leans her head into Alexis' gloved palm. "But if that's what you want, why does it sound like you want to break up?"

Somehow, it was easier for Twyla to tell Alexis that they could overcome the distance than to believe it herself. "I don't want to break up. But if the distance was too much for you and Ted – and I know how much you loved him – I'm worried it'll happen to us, too." 

She doesn't say what's really on her mind, her greatest fear: that Alexis is just biding her time with Twyla, waiting out the three years before Ted comes back. But as soon as the thought enters her head, Twyla realizes just how irrational it is. She _knows_ Alexis now. Maybe the Alexis from almost four years ago would've done something like that, but not the one who's with her now, looking at Twyla like she'd hang the moon and stars for her if she'd asked. 

Alexis' expressive face seems to cycle through a couple of different emotions – there's a crease in her brow, a tightening of her jaw, and then a softening in her eyes – before she speaks up again. "I want to make it work with you," she says simply, a reminder of a promise they'd made just a few days ago, and something in Twyla's heart gives way. 

"Me, too." Twyla leans up as Alexis kisses her, tightening her hold around Alexis, thinking, _mine_ and whispering, "I do, too," into her mouth.

  


********

  


They don't make it to the party. 

Alexis' apartment building is on the same block as the restaurant, and she takes out her keys to let them in instead of steering Twyla around the corner. Alexis kisses her again before they can even manage to get inside her apartment, pressing her insistently against the door until Twyla's certain her legs are going to give out.

There are so many winter layers to take off between them, and they leave a trail of their things from the entryway to Alexis' bedroom. Alexis bends down as Twyla backs up against the bed, running her hands under Twyla's flower-print dress and up one of her thighs. She makes quick work of pulling Twyla's tights down, follows their path with her fingertips, then brings her hands up to Twyla's hips, pushing until Twyla gets the hint and sits down on the edge of the bed. 

Alexis' gaze roams up Twyla's body, hot and intent enough to scorch, before she kneels between Twyla's legs, her hands massaging Twyla's calves and rising higher. "I'm not going anywhere, Twy. Do you believe me?"

"Yeah, Lex." Twyla's already breathless, even though Alexis' hands have stalled right above her knees. Her thumbs rub slow, insistent circles on Twyla's inner thighs, parallel teasing motions that cause Twyla's hips to hitch up. "I believe you." 

"Good." 

Alexis is still for a moment, her eyes on Twyla and a quiet, thoughtful smile on her lips. Twyla wants to ask what's on her mind, but then Alexis pushes Twyla's dress up higher, leaning down to tug down Twyla's underwear with her teeth, and all of Twyla's capacity for functional thought abandons her. 

Twyla reaches for the pink New Year's crown that Alexis had put on her head before dinner, tossing it aside as she shifts to lie down, and breathes out a shaky moan as Alexis gets her underwear down far enough to replace the fabric with her tongue. Twyla's hands tangle in Alexis' bedsheets as she cants her hips up against Alexis' mouth, and she can't remember when she started saying Alexis' name but she doesn't think she'll ever stop. 

All she can think about is Alexis: the intensity of her gaze, the quiet of her in the mornings and late at night, so different from the enthusiasm she puts forth throughout the rest of her life. She thinks about the way Alexis holds onto Twyla's hand and links their arms together, always keeping them connected, and how Twyla's heart always threatens to skip a beat whenever she sees her. 

Alexis shifts between her legs, spreading her open and taking her apart with her lips and fingers, and Twyla cries out as her orgasm catches her by surprise. "Fuck, Lex –" Twyla has barely enough awareness to sense Alexis _laughing_ against her, but she doesn't even mind when everything feels this good. "I love you so much."

Twyla doesn't entirely recognize what's happened until she's coming down from her high, the tremors in her hips settling down, and Alexis is pulling away with a satisfied smirk on her lips. 

"What was that, babe? I don't think I heard you, 'cause –" Alexis gestures to Twyla's shaky thighs, and Twyla, embarrassed, covers her eyes with her arm as she tries to steady her breathing. "I had something blocking my hearing." 

"It's not a big deal." Twyla had never been able to entirely suss out whether Alexis had _meant_ to tell Twyla that she loved her, way back before the holidays, and she doesn't know entirely how Alexis feels. "I just – It's nothing." 

"Didn't seem like nothing." Alexis moves up onto the bed, though, settling onto Twyla and pressing her down onto the mattress, and Twyla has no choice but to uncover her face. She kisses Alexis until her want flares up again, her hands roaming the skin exposed by Alexis' backless dress, tracing the curves of her breasts, easing Alexis' dress up and her underwear down. 

Alexis pants a moan into Twyla's ear as Twyla touches her and they find a rhythm; her hair's everywhere, enveloping Twyla in Alexis's perfume, and her senses are full of nothing but Alexis. It tugs at Twyla's heart, almost threatens to overwhelm her, and she cups Alexis' face with her other hand, fingertips pressing gently against Alexis' cheekbones.

"I love you," she murmurs. This time, there's nothing accidental about it. "I really do."

Alexis grins, unstoppable and ecstatic, then leans down to kiss Twyla again. "Happy New Year, Twy. I love you, too."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> New York: January 5th.

_i_ _'m so glad we committed_  
_any time, she could get it_  
_she's the real one, i know it_

********

“Have a wonderful year, Kiran!” Twyla says cheerfully, bending over to peer through the taxi’s passenger-side window and smile at their driver. She holds out a hundred-dollar bill through the window and effuses, “It was so nice to meet you!” before Kiran can acknowledge the hefty tip, then straightens up and takes hold of the handle of her wheeled suitcase.

Alexis slips an arm around Twyla’s waist, tugging Twyla in close to her side. “Make a new bestie, babe?” she teases.

Twyla gives her eyes half a roll, smiling up at Alexis. “I think New Yorkers might have a reputation of being grumpy because no one bothers to really _talk_ to each other. Once you do, though…” She shrugs, wrapping an arm around Alexis in turn. “Kiran recommended all those Indian restaurants, and our waitress last night had _such_ interesting things to say about green spaces in cities, and I’m so happy that Samuel found a hypoallergenic cat for his daughter! Will you ask him for pictures?”

“Yes,” Alexis says fondly. “But just so you know, most people don’t get _this_ invested in their bodega guy’s journey to pet ownership.”

“Well,” Twyla says, as they walk toward through the rotating door into the airport. “He’s not exactly _my_ bodega guy.”

“Yes, he is,” Alexis says, pulling Twyla even more firmly into the side of her body, their footsteps falling into sync. “What’s mine is yours. And you’ll see him again when you’re back in February. Which is, like, super soon.”

“It is,” Twyla agrees. Her eyes are on Alexis’ face, her attention completely unfocused on where they’re walking; she’s trusting Alexis to guide them both. “The weeks will go by so fast.”

“And then it will be Valentine’s Day,” Alexis says, booping her nose. “And I’ll plan the _cutest_ lil’ date for us!”

“I know you will,” Twyla says. “But… no expensive jewellery this time.”

Alexis pouts. “But Twy - ”

Twyla turns toward her, putting an abrupt stop to their walking and letting go of her suitcase to fold both her arms around Alexis. “It’s _my_ turn to get you something shiny,” she says decisively, before pushing up onto her toes to press a kiss to Alexis’ mouth.

Linking her arms firmly around Twyla’s waist, Alexis lifts her up off the ground, just a little. Twyla gasps and then giggles into her mouth, her hold on Alexis tightening, too. “I’m serious, okay?” she says as Alexis sets her down.

Alexis lifts her eyebrows, squeezing Twyla’s waist and wishing Twyla’s winter coat wasn’t so puffy and warm. “Is that an _order_ , babe?”

Twyla grins. Her body is still pressing into Alexis’, an easy, comfortable lean, casual but also meaningful in its intimacy. “Maybe it is.”

“So, are you gonna, like - ” Alexis shimmies, “ - _punish_ me, if I buy you a bracelet or something?”

“Lex,” Twyla laughs, pink spots appearing on the high points of her cheeks; but she’s looking coyly at Alexis through her lashes, and she doesn’t actually say _no_. Her hands linger against Alexis’ hips as she pulls her arms away, and her fingertips skate down Alexis’ forearm before she takes her hand. Twyla places her other hand on the handle of her suitcase, and tugs both the bag and Alexis along after her.

As they pass the last few check-in kiosks, Alexis finds herself dragging her feet. “Hey, Twy?” she asks. “Are you sure you don’t want to check your bag?”

“No, it’s fine. I can put it in the overhead bin.”

Twyla takes another step forward, but Alexis pulls her back. “But - maybe it’d be easier to check it? You won’t have to worry about finding a muscular hottie to lift it up there for you.”

The corner of Twyla’s mouth quirks up. “I can lift my suitcase.”

“I know,” Alexis says quickly, because she and Twyla are both very strong, very independent women, even if she’s currently clinging to Twyla’s hand like she’ll spontaneously combust if she’s forced to let go. “I know. But it’s also, like, kind of annoying to have to take your bag everywhere with you before you board? So maybe, for your convenience, and like, your _comfort_ , you could - ”

“Alexis,” Twyla interrupts. “It’s okay.” When Alexis shoots her a doubtful, stressed-out look, she repeats, “It’s okay.”

“Okay,” Alexis says. She tries to smile at Twyla, but the shape her mouth is making feels more like a grimace.

“Yeah.” Twyla squeezes her hand, and leans up, lips brushing along the line of Alexis’ jaw in a kiss. Using their joined hands, she pulls Alexis forward, and this time, Alexis goes.

But when the entrance to the line for security comes into view, her footsteps slow down again, as if her body is unwilling to walk Twyla all the way there. “Um,” she says, slowly disentangling her fingers from where they’re linked through Twyla’s. “I’m just going to run to the washroom. You’ve got time, right?”

“I’ve got time,” Twyla confirms. She touches Alexis’ elbow, squeezing lightly, and Alexis throws her another smile-that’s-probably-a-grimace before speedwalking in the direction of the sign for the bathrooms.

She does some deep breathing while standing in a stall, David’s voice in her head, ordering: _breaths!_ When she feels less like she’s teetering on the edge of tears, she washes her hands, splashes cold water on her face, and squares her shoulders as she looks at her reflection in the mirror.

By an agreement both spoken and silent, she and Twyla have been enjoying every one of their moments in New York together, focused on the present and on each other, not allowing their impending separation to interrupt their happiness at being in the same place for six whole days. But now their separation is _imminent_ , and Alexis is discovering that her ability to compartmentalize only stretches so far. She doesn’t regret her decision to move here, not at all, but it definitely doesn’t feel anything like the joyful escape from Schitt’s Creek it once would’ve been. Some days, like today, it feels sad, and it feels hard.

When she leaves the washroom, Twyla’s standing nearby, holding a tall, red coffee cup. Alexis figures it’s caffeine to combat the exhaustion of traveling and how little they slept last night, but when she rejoins her girlfriend, Twyla holds the cup out to her.

“What’s this?” Alexis asks, accepting it automatically.

“Chestnut praline latte. Extra whip.”

Alexis’ lower lip pokes out, and then, to her horror, begins to tremble. “Twy,” she says, before biting down on her lip. “You know this is my favourite?”

Twyla smiles like Alexis has said something funny. “I know all your favourites, babe. Just like I know that you get extra whip when you’re sad.” She softens her voice as she adds, “Just like I know that, right now, that’s what you are.”

Staring fixedly at the lid on her latte, Alexis says, in almost a whisper, “I’m trying not to be.”

“I know,” Twyla says, resting her palms against the back of Alexis’ hands, thumbs rubbing against the pulse points at Alexis’ wrists. “I am, too.” And then she waits for Alexis - something she’s unfairly, exquisitely, poignantly good at.

“I, um.” Alexis looks up, into Twyla’s gorgeous eyes, bright in their emerald green, just a little damp. “I’m good at being the person who gets on the plane. I don’t think I’m so good at being… the person who stands in the airport, watching someone else go.”

“So don’t do that, babe. We’ll… count down.” Twyla’s eyes crinkle sweetly at their corners. “Turn around at the same time.”

“But, Twy.” Alexis shifts her drink into just one hand, and wraps her other arm around Twyla’s hips, fingertips slipping into one of the back pockets on Twyla’s jeans. “I love to watch you walk away,” she teases.

Twyla’s smile grows slowly, like a sunrise, her eyes shining. She grabs onto the front of Alexis’ coat, and pulls her down into a kiss, careful not to bump the to-go cup. “You’re _cheesy_ , Lex,” she says, sounding enchanted.

Alexis presses her nose against Twyla’s. No one’s ever levelled that playful accusation at her before, but after these last few days, and these last few years, with Twy? She can admit it’s possible.

“Maybe,” she allows. “But I’m okay, _definitely_. It’s tough, but… we knew that. And we’re okay.”

“We are _so_ okay,” Twyla agrees, nose brushing fondly against Alexis’ before she leans in for another kiss.

“We’re going to make this whole distance thing work for us,” Alexis murmurs. “Because we’re two boss babes, and we know how to make things work.” She swallows, and it turns out that it’s her turn to need reassurance, because she hears herself ask Twyla, “Right?”

“Lex, yes.” Into another kiss, Twyla adds teasingly, “ _Hunny p._ ”

Alexis rolls her eyes and gathers Twyla into a tight, long hug. “Have a good flight, baby,” she says against Twyla’s hair. “Call me the second you land.”

“I will,” Twyla says, voice muffled against Alexis’ shoulder. “We can talk on my drive home.”

“Isn’t Ray picking you up?”

Twyla pulls back so that Alexis can see her wry grin. “I’m sure he’d be happy to put you on speaker.”

Alexis breathes out a small laugh. “I love you, Twyla.”

“I love you, too,” Twyla says, and she presses her hand over the locket that’s resting against her chest.

They kiss one last time, long and soft and lingering, and then Twyla backs away toward the security line-up for a few steps before she turns around, smiling back at Alexis over her shoulder.

Holding her cup of coffee in both hands, breathing in its sweet scent, Alexis watches Twyla show her boarding pass to a TSA employee, saying something that makes him smile. As she joins the line, Twyla unzips her jacket and shrugs it off, and undoes the laces on her functional winter boots, because she’s that kind of considerate little cupcake.

When Twyla reaches the point in the line when she’ll soon be out of Alexis’ sight, she turns around, her eyes finding Alexis quickly and easily, and blows a kiss.

“ _I love you!_ ” Alexis yells to her. It draws a few stares, but she doesn’t care.

Even from a distance, Alexis can see the bashful dip of Twyla’s head, and imagines the edges of Twyla’s ears turning pink. The smile on Twyla’s face is crystal clear even from afar, wide and beaming, and she cups her hands around her mouth as she calls back, “ _I love you, too!_ ” This seems to alarm the passenger behind her, but Twyla just keeps smiling sunnily, offering Alexis one last wave before she moves forward in the line.

Alexis sighs, watching a few more passengers move through the line and taking a sip of her latte. She feels the sting of Twyla’s absence already, and it’ll probably wear on her for the rest of the day, but she _is_ okay. Underneath today’s sadness, there’s a more profound, lasting kind of happiness that this holiday season with Twyla has brought her.

As she meanders back toward the airport’s exit, she pulls out her phone and texts, _miss you twy_.

There’s a delay between Alexis sending the text and Twyla replying, as Twyla navigates through security, so Alexis is waiting for a car by the time Twyla’s response appears.

_Miss you too,_ Twyla writes. _What are you going to do with the rest of your day?_

Alexis smiles at the screen of her phone, and starts to type.

the end. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this fic! We hope it brought you a hint of holiday joy in this very strange season. 
> 
> You can find your authors on tumblr at alamborghini and anniemurphys.


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